"By the Lily," cried a soldier, "here's a third! Take this, Zulu rat!"
And he struck the dead man heavily with a kerrie. "And that!" cried
another, driving his spear through him so that it pricked Umslopogaas
beneath. "And that! and this! and that!" said others, as they smote
and stabbed.
Now Umslopogaas groaned heavily in the deep shadow and lay still. "No
need to waste more blows," said the man who had struck first. "This
one will never go back to Zululand, and I think that few will care to
follow him. Let us make an end: run, some of you, and find stones to
stop the burrow, for now the sport is done."
He turned as he spoke and so did the others, and this was what the
Slaughter sought. With a swift movement, he freed himself from the
dead man and sprang to his feet. They heard the sound and turned
again, but as they turned Groan-Maker pecked softly, and that man who
had sworn by the Lily was no more a man. Then Umslopogaas leaped
forwards, and, bounding on to the great rock, stood there like a buck
against the sky.
"A Zulu rat is not so easily slain, O ye weasels!" he cried, as they
came at him from all sides at once with a roar. He smote to the right
and the left, and so swiftly that men could scarcely see the blows
fall, for he struck with Groan-Maker's beak. But though men scarcely
saw the blows, yet, my father, men fell beneath them.
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